Carbines, Men, and Children
by Mariette
Summary: The only reason I haven't deleted this is because it was my first fanfic ever. Move along now, there's nothing to see here.


What if?  
  
Gavroche: What if I had taken Enjolras's carbine instead of Inspector Javert's musket? This -

Cosette: Is a rather wierd story. Gavroche: Hush, kiddo. Mariette: Break it up you two.

Gavroche, be nice to Cosette. She had a bad childhood.

Cosette: sticks tongue out at Gavroche Nyah-nyah.

Gavroche: And I didn't? Anywho, this fanfic will explain what might have happened had I taken Enjolras's carbine.

Mariette: I did not write Les Miz, nor did I come up with any of the characters mentioned here. This is my first attempt at fanfiction, so be nice.

**.:. .:. .:. .:. .:. .:. .:. .:. .:. .:. .:. .:.**

Enjolras and Combeferre, carbines in hand, sat down at the barricade, waiting. The clock of Saint-Merry rang ten times. Then, from Rue Saint-Denis, a young, fresh voice rang out:  
"My nose is in tears,  
  
My good friend Bugeaud,  
  
Just lend me your spears  
  
To tell them of my woe.  
  
In blue cassimere,  
  
Hen on the shako,  
  
The banlieue is here!  
  
Co-cocorico!" 

"It is Gavroche, comrades. He is warning us!" Springing to his feet, Enjolras ran into the wineshop. "Come citizens! The time to fight is now!"

"Huzzah!" shouted Les Amis de l'ABC. They ran out. Gavroche came up to Enjolras, panting as iff he had run from the hounds of hell.

"Here, gamin," said Enjolras. "Take my carbine."

"Do I have to?" whined Gavroche. "I had a musket in 1830, in the the Charles X argument. Let me have one now."

"When we have enough muskets for the men, then we will give muskets to the children," Enjolras declared firmly.

"Now, take my carbine."

Harumphing, Gavroche accepted the butt of the gun and scampered out to the barricades, calling over his shoulder, "Smooth-face!."

"Gamin," yelled Enjolras at the retreating youngster. The other Amis turned and stared. Enjolras blushed.

Gavroche came up behind Combeferre. "If you are killed before me, I'll take your musket."

Combeferre laughed. "Of course, lad."

-------------

In the mean time, Enjolras had walked out, and was standing at the base of the barricade. "Now, citizens, the time has come to fight! But, as a symbol of our willingness to fight and die for the glorious republic, we will raise the red flag!" Silence from the audience. "Will no one volunteer to raise the flag?"

"I will." An elderly voice rang out from the end of the street.

"Father Mabeuf?" gasped Gavroche, bewildered. This frail old man was the bravest of the young, hot-blooded men here?

"Yes," said Father Mabeuf, in a firm voice. He took the flag from Enjolras's stunned fingers, walked over to the barricade, and placed one foot firmly on a table, and turned back to the awe-struck crowd. "Vive le republique!" shouted the old man, and he laborously began to climb. At the top, Father Mabeuf shoved the flag pole into the barricade. "Vive la revolution! Vive la republique! Fraternity! Equality! And death!"

The response from the other side: "Fire!" Bullets rang out. Father Mabeuf fell to the ground. He was dead, with several bullets through him.

Les Amis de l'ABC followed the leader, Enjolras, as he walked slowly towards Mabeuf. Tenderly picking him up, as if he was afraid of hurting him, Enjolras carried Mabeuf into the wineshop and laid him down on a table. A tear ran down the man's marble cheek as he kissed him fiercly the forehead. Then, taking off Mabeuf's coat, with the bloody bullet holes in it, Enjolras waved it aobout. "There is our flag now."  
-------------

But this solemn moment was interupted by Gavroche's young cry. "Look out!" The Amis swung around, and pulled their guns. In the moment of silence for the brave old man who had died raising the flag, the National Guard had entered the barricade. They swarmed everywhere. Combeferre and Enjolras took careful aim, not missing a shot. Courfeyac and Jehan stood back to back, firing at anyone who dared come near. And, in a corner, stood the gamin Gavroche. A large Nationalguardsman, the giant of all the soldiers approached the gamin, who was shooting incoming Nationalguardsmen from a different angle. A smile spread across the man's face, and he raised his bayonet. But he never got the chance to thrust the bayonet through the lad's stomach. A voice rang out; "Watch out!" and Gavroche turned and fired a shot into the man's stomach. Then, dancing on the dead man's back, Gavroche continued to fire away. Then, he saw a young man standing at the edge of the street. Gavroche ran over to him, jumping happily over the bodies of the guardsmen strewn throughout the street. "Citizen! Come to join the party? Fire away, for France! Vive le republique!"

The young man looked oddly at the gamin, who looked back. "What is wrong with you? Fire away!" The poor young man, who's shoulders were slumped and face miserable, looked at his gun. "Come on then, man!" cried the impatient Gavroche. "Go on. Fire at the guardsmen!" Gavroche jumped on a box behind the young man and shoved him from behind. Suddenly, a National Guardsman took notice of the gamin, who was jumping up and down with frustration. He cackled, then took aim at the young man, who was sitting dejectedly on the ground. The gamin saw this, and yelled "Move!" to the young man. The man moved, then, in anger, fired. "There we go!" yelled Gavroche.

This incident seemed to make something spark inside the young man. He ran into the frenzy, searching out one of the officers of Les Amis de l'ABC. He came upon Jehan. "I've come to fight with you!" the young man yelled into the poet's ear.

"Hello Marius. Nice to see you!" replied the Jehan.

**.:. .:. .:. .:. .:. .:. .:. .:. .:. .:. .:. .:.**

Mariette: Okay, I'm stopping there. Think that's enough for now. Whaddya think? Maybe later I'll write more.

Gavroche: With me in them?

Cosette: Let me be in them too!

Mariette: Umm... maybe later, like I said. Maybe a long time later...


End file.
